


rot

by twopinchesofcinnamon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Blood and Gore, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Referenced violence, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:01:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22532902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twopinchesofcinnamon/pseuds/twopinchesofcinnamon
Summary: Now, with a sinking sort of horror, Kuroo thinks that Akaashi kind of looks like a rotting apple.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, implied
Comments: 11
Kudos: 71





	rot

**Author's Note:**

> Just a drabble I wrote to try my hand at something more sinister than what I usually write

Kuroo is familiar with rotten apples.

For a long time, it was thanks to his mess of a father, always leaving a trail of crumbs and compost in his footprints—but in these past years, the apocalypse has only furthered his intimacy with the shriveled fruit.

He knows the the shark-teeth browning that comes with them, and the subtle, off-kilter buzz of feasting flies. He knows the procedure: crush the pungent juices out and pray he can find a spot of yellow-white in a sea of sickness. In fact, he picked his way through a core this morning, deciding to let Kenma nibble on the patch of unaffected insides despite his mumbling stomach.

Now, with sinking sort of horror, Kuroo thinks that Akaashi kind of looks like a rotting apple.

It's only been a handful of months since they last saw him (screaming, _yowling_ as undead fingers gripped the ones that he used to wring and tore them to shreds), and it'llbe a handful of lifetimes before Kuroo truly gets over it (the light leaving such intelligent eyes in favor of taut pain, and the shattered wail of bright, beautiful Bokuto calling out _Akaashi, Akaashi, Akaashi_ like a dreadful mantra, even after the only remnants of him were a trail of sticky blood and scattered clumps of skin).

Kuroo has thought that the day Akaashi Keiji died would be the worst of the apocalypse, because of his selfishly made rules that surfaced after the incident ( _don't let Kou die, don't let Kenma die, don't let them die before you_. This way, Akaashi's eyes will be the last that Kuroo watches the light leave). He can't go through that again; he can't comfort the other person through his own tattered heart (like when he was holding Kenma close to his chest and forcing food down Bokuto's throat and all Kuroo wanted to do was lay down and sleep like the uninfected bodies lining the streets).

(He was _wrong_ ).

_This_ , Kuroo decides as Akaashi stands a couple feet away, lifeless, twitching, and rotting like an apple, _is the worst day of my life._

A too-bony shoulder bumps into his back, followed by a choked gasp.

"Is that...?" Kenma's voice is somehow smaller than usual, scratchy from a lack of water in the recent weeks.

Kuroo nods solemnly and falls into a careful stance. Kenma follows him, fingers wrapping around his worn gun.

“Where’s Bo?” he holds out his other hand for Kenma to take.

“Checking the back for pain meds.”

Kuroo cranes his neck to see inside the windows of the store they’ve come to raid. He zeroes in on a rustling sort of movement and that mop of familiar streaky hair.

Then, he turns back to Akaashi, who hasn’t noticed them quite yet, but Kuroo knows he will the moment they attempt to leave.

He inhales.

Akaashi Keiji was objectively beautiful, but Kuroo knew that Bokuto saw entire galaxies when he looked at the boy. Akaashi moved like Kuroo—languid—yet somehow made it seem sweet and serene instead of calculating. The worst part is: this _thing_ before Kuroo, though ravenous for human flesh, still looks like Akaashi. His eyes are still the dull blue-green and his skin is smooth and pretty (pretty with rot clawing up his arms and into his brain). His remaining fingers are long and perfect for a setter. Anyone who knew him before would recognize him now.  
  


(Bokuto’s nightmares still haven’t stopped).

He exhales.

  
(For Bokuto. _For Bokuto_ ).

“Look away, Kenma.”

(Kuroo doesn’t have time to feel pain and he’s doing this so _Bokuto_ doesn’t have to).

Kuroo holds up his silenced gun, limbs barbell heavy.

( _I’m sorry_ ).

He aims for the face.


End file.
